


Men of Conviction

by esama



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Concerning superheroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men of Conviction

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread by Tsuyuhime, many thanks

Tony was getting drunk. Of course he was.

Stane was dead, Pepper was threatening to quit again, _Rhodey_ was threatening to quit on him too – Stark Industries _had_ quit on him, but of course with Stane dead all the driving force behind Tony's exclusion from the company was gone. Not that anyone knew about that yet. There was property damage up the wazoo and Stark Industries stock was on a nose dive.

Apparently, having a fight in broad daylight – well, in broad evening light, but still, visible and public – wasn't good for the company. Even when it was done by unimaginably cool unknown technology. Something about the death and destruction and the goddamn collateral damage.

Soon, the very next day probably, Pepper – if she hadn't quit by then – would bring him a stack of papers to sign. Condolence letters and benefit packages and bribes and he'd probably need to hand over a million or a few to a couple of charities and of course he'd need to fix the damage itself, with a nice neat Stark Industries bow on top. Still, someone would probably find a reason to sue. Probably several hundreds of people would find reasons to sue. They always did.

Right now though, Tony was aching. He had cracked ribs, his eardrums still felt like they'd been shattered, and there was a horrible hollow feeling in his chest that he was doing his very best to pretend was caused by the older arc reactor. Stane was dead and no one knew. Stark Industries had taken a blow and everyone knew. So.

Tony was getting drunk.

"There will be press conferences tomorrow," the mild mannered Agent – whose name was probably actually _Agent_ , that was how agenty he was – said. "We'll have your cover story and alibi ready for then."

"Hng," Tony answered, a sort of hitched inhale that stung at his chest. He attempted to sit straighter, and motioned at the screen. The TV was silent, but the pictures said everything. They hadn't stopped replaying the footage from the incident at the laboratory. Rhodey's picture – taken from an old conference – was being shown. "Rhodey?"

Rhodey had stopped the army before they threw a fit – it had probably saved a lot of lives, who knew how bad it would've been with jets in the air. But people wouldn't know that, they wouldn't see that. All they'd see was that a couple of robots had gone haywire right at the heart of America's former biggest weapons manufacture company – and that the proper authorities had done fuck all about it. A lot of higher-ups would have a lot of questions and a lot of blame to dish around once the shit storm really hits – and at the centre of that was Rhodey.

"Colonel Rhodes will be facing a… small, informal hearing concerning his involvement," Agent said, glancing at him. "There will be no records of it afterwards."

Tony nodded shakily once and then, swallowing, again a bit more steadily. He sipped his drink and looked at the TV again. They were playing the footage again – him and Stane's suit, racing for the clouds. Pepper was somewhere doing whatever she could to tone down the media storm. That was probably why there weren't any witness accounts on the news – yet.

"So, what sort of cover up will it be?" Tony asked. "Rogue drones? The military liked that one."

"After you stopped weapons manufacture? Might not fly," Agent said and Tony turned a suspicious eye on him. Had he made a funny?

"Was that a joke?" Tony asked slowly.

Coulson ignored him. "We're angling more towards bodyguard," he said and looked at the TV, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Considering the past year, it would make sense for a man of your capabilities and… interests to create something like that."

"So, what, I made a robotic bodyguard for myself and it went haywire?" Tony asked and reached for the remote. He flicked through a couple of channels until the title, _'Who is Iron Man?'_ flashed on the screen, accompanied by a blurry video taken at a distance. The suit had been pretty beaten up by then, but at least he still had a faceplate on. What he _didn't_ have, though, was one of the gloves. It was kind of hard to see in this particular clip… but it was only a matter of time until someone found a better shot.

Tony motioned at the image, at his own bare hand. "Too many fleshy bits for a robot," he pointed out.

"A bodyguard you suited up in brand new Stark tech," Coulson said calmly. "It makes a certain sort of sense."

"More sense than a rich billionaire building himself a high tech armour and playing superhero?" Tony asked and sipped his drink again before straightening up a bit and leaning forward. Hunching forward eased the hollow ache a bit.

"Superhero," Coulson echoed, and for once he didn't sound blandly polite and unflappable. "Is that what you think you are, Mr. Stark?"

Tony turned to look at him, and the guy was actually frowning a bit at him. Tony snorted and lifted the glass in a toast. "Nah," he said. "You should grab a drink and join me, Agent. It's boring celebrating alone."

"Is that what you're doing?"

"If you're just going to stand there asking bland rhetorical questions – just," Tony made a motion at the minibar. "Grab something and sit your ass down. You're making me feel like I'm late with homework."

"Are you?" Coulson asked and Tony glared at him. After a moment of perfect blandness, the Agent turned and headed for the minibar. As Tony watched, the man looked through the bottles before fixing himself a very well watered down gin and tonic. "I'm still technically on duty," Coulson said, slicing up a lemon and popping it into the drink. Then he actually took a straw and popped it in too. And then he took a tiny little drink through the straw, looking hilariously… well, hilarious while doing it.

"You're messing with me, somehow," Tony said with narrowed eyes. "But I'll take it. Pull up a cushion, agent."

Coulson sat down, and for a while they watched the news playing silently on the screen. The silence stretched on, not _quite_ awkward but not exactly loose and casual either, and Tony was contemplating grabbing something stronger to drink – and possibly shoving it down the Agent's throat – when Coulson suddenly spoke. "I guess you are, though."

"Guess I'm what?" Tony asked, blinking. On the screen, the footage of him and Stane racing for the skies was playing again and a talking head was probably trying to gauge the masses of the _objects in question_.

"A superhero," Coulson said, glancing at him and arching his eyebrows. "You _did_ build a flying armoured suit and then you proceeded to have what can only be called a _boss battle_ with your…" he looked for a word and then settled on a semi diplomatic, "enemy."

 Tony snorted at that. Fuck it really sounded like a comic book, though, didn't it? It made a good story too. Trusted business partner betrays the protagonist and the protagonist triumphs against all odds in the worst conditions and comes out a new man – a hero. Fuck. "I’ve got an _origin story_ ," Tony said, sounding horrified.

"Seems like you do," Coulson agreed, looking at him.

"I am –" Tony stared and then stopped. "I'm _not_ – that's not why I made the suit."

"I know," Coulson agreed and for a moment Tony wondered how much the man actually knew – how much he knew about Afghanistan, about… about all of it. He knew _something_ , a lot more than Tony was entirely comfortable with anyway. "You can't argue with the results, though."

"Except you can, what with all the cover up stories and alibis and whatever," Tony pointed out. "Bodyguard, really?"

"Not my favourite story," Coulson made a sort of _well, what can you do_ motion with a single shoulder. The man seemed to be weighing something in his head, and Tony could almost see him choosing dialogue options. "I lost good agents today," Coulson said then. "And so far at least four civilian casualties have been confirmed."

"Not worth it, huh?" Tony asked darkly, turning his attention to his glass.

"It could have been worse," Coulson said and almost daintily took a drink through the straw. "Granted, if you hadn't pushed Stane, hadn't gotten up in his face about it, maybe the arrest could've been done quietly, but… it could've been worse. A powerful man desperate for more power can do a lot of damage in a very short time."

"You got some experience with that, huh?"

"Not in this exact type of situation, granted, but it all boils down to the same thing in the end, be it… supervillainy or the good old garden variety terrorism," Coulson said.

Tony blinked at that and turned to look at him a bit incredulously. "You're saying Stane was a supervillain?"

"A short lived one, but he’s got all the earmarks, doesn't he?" the Agent asked with the sort of calm consideration that was just… "Convoluted plots to get rid of his enemies, dealing with both sides, inciting trouble – in his case, actual war even – stealing, numerous murder attempts… And he built himself a powered armoured suit. That flew."

"Badly," Tony had to point out, a bit incredulous that they were actually having this conversation. "It flew _very_ badly. Too much weight and he didn't have proper stabilisation going on –"

"But it flew," Coulson said, nodding. "Add in all the property damage and the monologuing – "

"How do you know about the monologuing?"

"– and what you have is a basic supervillain," the agent finished with a satisfied nod. "Your very first supervillain, Mr. Stark."

"He wasn't – " Tony started and then sighed. He kind of was though. "I'm not a superhero," he said then. Because he wasn't.

Coulson just looked at him and took another sip of his gin and tonic. He didn't say anything, but his face said it all.

"Superheroes don't exist," Tony said and drained his glass.

Coulson arched his eyebrows.

"This is ridiculous," Tony grumbled and leaned back – and immediately winced. The retracting tool Stane had used on him had pulled on the socket a bit, and he had a bad feeling the reactor mount was bleeding around the edges.

"Do you need medical assistance?" Coulson asked, looking him over.

"I'm fine," Tony grunted. The shrapnel was probably knocking at the heart flaps by now, but for now he'd survive. He'd deal with medical emergencies later. This was more important. "I don't like superheroes. I don't want to be one."

That took Coulson by surprise – the man actually leaned back a bit, as if from a physical blow. "You don't like superheroes," he repeated and Tony could've sworn he sounded betrayed – baffled and betrayed. "Who doesn't like superheroes?"

"I don't like superheroes," Tony grunted, rubbing his fingers around the reactor mount and nonchalantly checking for blood. "They're unrealistic, unsustainable and un… everything. They're ridiculous and impractical and –"

"They're inspirational," Coulson pointed out, watching him with a slight, almost offended frown. "Do you have any idea how many young children would –"

"Restrictive," Tony said, snapping his fingers. "They're restrictive. Because of the whole being heroic and idealistic and all that. Being the best person you can be –" he was kind of starting to imitate his dad now "– being honourable and honest and trustworthy and… and other things. Restrictive."

Coulson stared at him for a moment. "And you find it a… bad thing to hold up to a certain standard?" he asked.

Tony snorted at that – and ouch that hurt his chest. Smothering the laughter before it could break out, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for the minibar to get another drink. Stronger drink. "I guess the bodyguard story works," he said, reaching for the whiskey. "Yeah, that'll work. Does it actually have to be someone or are we going to go for the whole mile with the secret identity shtick?"

Coulson didn't answer, eyeing him from the sofa. "What's wrong with superheroes?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing, they're a fine unrealistic non-existent bunch," Tony muttered and poured a couple of fingers worth of whiskey for himself. Then, considering, he added a couple more.

Coulson shook his head. "What superhero hurt you, Mr. Stark?" he asked, half mocking and half serious.

"I'll hurt _you_ ," Tony answered and pointed a finger at him. "What are you even doing here, why are you on my couch? Get out of here."

"You told me to have a drink and sit down," the agent said and then, very deliberately, leaned back and took a sip of his gin and tonic. "I guess this has something to do with your father's involvement with the Rebirth Project?"

"What's that?" Tony asked petulantly.

"The project that created Captain America."

Even having seen it coming, somehow, didn't stop Tony from wincing.

Coulson watched him contemplatively from the sofa. "Superheroes seem to be almost a part of the family business for you Starks now that I think about it," he commented.

"I can go back to making weapons of mass destruction," Tony grumbled to himself. "I'll make a better supervillain anyway. Mass produce EMP bombs powered by arc reactors – might do this world some good actually –"

Coulson just gave him a _look_. Tony scoffed at him and then went to join him by the sofa because damn it was his sofa and he was sitting there first. Coulson watched the whole way, eyeing him as he made a show of relaxing. "Why did you build the armour, Mr. Stark?" the agent asked. "If not to do good?"

Tony glared at his glass. His hands were not shaking. They really weren't. "Nobody wants me to be a superhero," he said then. And he wasn't one. He really wasn't,

"I do," the agent answered simply and Tony's hands tightened around the glass, making the liquid almost splash. Coulson arched an eyebrow at him. "And besides, I'm not sure superhero is something you can decide to be – or to not be. It's something you become as a result of your actions – and look," he motioned at the TV and by some convoluted, twisted quirk of fate, it was playing a clip of Iron Man catching a car full of civilians.

Tony could remember them – the lady and her kids, all of them screaming. She'd driven right over him in the end, caused about 12% of the total damage the suit had taken in that fight, but still… they'd made it. Because Tony had caught them. And someone had caught it on camera.

"That, Mr. Stark," Coulson said quietly as the clip was replayed. "That seems pretty heroic to me."

 


End file.
